The Inside Scoop
by Numbuh Phenon
Summary: On the eve of her thirteenth birthday, Numbuh 10 interviews The Steve in hopes of finding the answer to a question that has always weighed on her mind.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Codename Kids Next Door.

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><p>Stacey, the beautiful Numbuh 10, was seemingly defined by her hardcore interviews. No one denied that while on camera, she could flash a dazzling smile that would send harshest of critics in awe, but her true passion came with an insatiable hunger for the truth. The journalistic drive. To gain knowledge to share with the public, giving them the update they needed to be enlightened of. Investigating the sketchiest of details to uncover the golden truth behind the muddled lie. Searching in dark places where no kid should ever wander, digging up answers that had been long buried.<p>

Answers, that in some grim circumstances, should sometimes stay buried. Stacey ignored this one sacred rule to the trade. In her blind naivety, she believed she had the right to know everything. If it served towards a greater purpose, what once lay hidden must be revealed.

So on the eve of her thirteenth birthday, Stacey conducted the most important interview of her career. Her last one. And the one no one ever got an answer to.

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><p>A lone figure walked down the winding path through the park, a pre-teen carrying herself with utmost professionalism. Stacey calmly strolled down the lane, her only insurance a hidden blaster at her hip. Each measured step was even and styled with the grace of any top breed of reporter. It was to be expected, she was the leader of sector L, after all; Head Anchor Girl to the acclaimed KND Nightly News Network. Going lax, even now, would be a insult to her own demeanor.<p>

Yet oddly enough, her choice in dress did not reflect her strict front. There were no lavish blouses, dolled up hair-do, powdered make-up, or sharp clacking heels tucked around her ankles. A trench coat hugged her frame, and a rimmed chapeau hid her fiery mop of hair. The risk of being recognized was far too great. Yet, it wasn't the prospect of being seen by her fellow operatives that unnerved her.

It was the slight chance that if she was seen by any of them, whether from her sector or otherwise, the interview would be shot. Her only chance to get the one answer that plagued her, gone.

That was not happening.

Numbuh 10 came to a stop as her target came into view. There seated on a bench, nonchalantly laid back, was a teenager. A teenager with slicked, chestnut locks. A teenager with a sweater callously tied to his waist. A teenager with a flaming red tank-top, a stark ashen 'S' symbol stitched into the front. A pair of sunglasses, that were normally worn at all times, hung clipped to the neckline of his top, and only a stray chocolate bang kept his eyes hidden. His fingers rattled against the spine of the bench, waiting. Stacey immediately noticed the closer she got, the more aware he seemed to be.

Never did she think she would see him again.

He knew she was there, of that much, she was certain. Slipping into her classic persona, her face cleared of any emotion as her left hand kept a steady distance from her firearm. "Steve."

"Yo," the enigma known as, The Steve, greeted. He made no nod, or turn at her presence. Only barely acknowledged it. "Decided to swing by?"

"Drop the cheesy Fonz act," Stacey scolded, wanting to take this meeting seriously. "Are you that desperate to distance yourself from who you were?"

"It's still cute how oblivious you are, Stacey," Steve said, leaning his head back and gazing ahead. "I was wrong with how I was. Still in the wrong, but now, I believe I'm actually doing some right."

"You think you can justify your actions with some stupid riddle?" she fumed, teetering towards the edge. The emotions of betrayal, frustration, and hurt swirled wildly within, her blaster seeming so tempting. But she wouldn't give in. Not yet. "There's nothing right about what you do. Nothing can excuse the atrocities you and your organization commit everyday."

"You trying to imply the Kids Next Door is perfect? Cause it ain't, babe."

"We don't harass innocent kids for the fun of it."

"And we don't attack clean teens for the hell of it," he shot back. He never turned, his voice never wavered. His tone was a mellow flow throughout it all. "How many honor students have operatives plagued with acne by your bombs? Give me a number of freshmen you interrogate, even when they're not involved at all." Her silence was all the answer he needed.

It was times like this, especially times like this, that she would see how he hadn't changed, not really. He was still _him_ underneath it all, working for free rights. A great debater, the greatest leader. She could ask, what happened to you, why did you do this, but none of the questions seemed right.

"Why are you here?" she asked instead, because she was a good reporter, and good reporters saw under the underneath.

"Cause you got questions," he began, still never looking at her. She wished it was out of shame, but that was wishful thinking. "And I think it's time to dish out some answers."

Her expression never altered, but her fists tightened beyond her control. How could he always be so calm, so in control after all this time. It was like nothing fazed him. She couldn't faze him. "The treaty. We could have ended the strife between our groups, but you doubled crossed us. Where was the reason in that?"

"Treaties are just a buncha flashy words and fancy papers. They don't mean nothing in the pinch," he rebutted. "Was just gonna be one big time out until someone got angry, then we'd be back at square one. We just decided that we weren't gonna wait for the Kids Next Door to make the first strike."

Stacey glared. "Speaking from experience?"

"Not yet," he interrupted, making the first sign of actual moment by raising his hand, waving off her inquiry. "My turn."

Stacey, for once in her career, was almost thrown for a loop at his statement. "It doesn't work that way."

"Well, babe, in case you haven't noticed, this ain't exactly your run of the mill interview," The Steve muttered. The Teenz leader slowly rose from his seat, rising into a stretch. With calculated steps, he maneuvered around the bench, finally facing her.

Her heart skipped a beat seeing the teenager close. Her hand twitched, inching slightly closer to her blaster, yet never making a motion to withdraw it. His gaze, his structure demanded attention. An effect he carried, always carried. Why were they trapped on opposite ends of the spectrum? Before this, she would have followed him anywhere. But now…

"Keep your distance," she growled, finally working the muscle to snap out her weapon. She kept a steady aim on the teenager, but even a normal bystander would pick up on her hesitance should they happen to wander by. "Ask your stupid question."

The Steve paused in his advance, but seemingly paid no mind to how she was sizing him up as a target. "Why did you join? What made normal, easy going life so dull?"

She blinked, expecting a more personal question then that. "Why do any of us join? We want to make a difference."

"Sure, but it's how we do it that matters in the end. You may not buy what I'm selling, but my dream has never changed, Stacey."

"Oh, so when you got older, the rest of us just didn't fit into that dream anymore. Is that it?" she spat, finger dancing around the trigger now.

"I've never denied any of you that dream," The Steve coolly uttered, staring down the operative with a leveled gaze. "Anyone who wanted to step up could have rolled with us any time, even before they hit the big One-Three."

"That doesn't change a thing," she hissed, "You _betrayed_ us. Everything you ever taught us to believe in. It was so easy for you to turn your back on it all."

"But is that why we're talking right now? Is it the fact I betrayed them that's got you peeved?" The Steve pressed, his words chosen carefully. "Or is it the fact I betrayed _you_?"

Stacey let loose a humorless laugh. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, isn't that sad? You gave me everything. A reason to believe, to hope, to keep looking for the truth. Heck, you even reopened the Sector L studio just so I…" she cut herself off, an onslaught of memories assaulting her mind.

There was that boy. That cute older boy. The one that led them all, the one that made the darkest of hours shy away at his presence. That boy stood tall, confident in his vision. The fact that for some reason she _still_ saw that boy standing right in front of her was what made it hurt so much.

"You got it because I knew you had it, Stacey." She didn't know when he started to speak again, but just like always, she could not help but listen. Hang off of every precise word. "You had drive. You were a reporter. Not many kids can see what's wrong, not many even want to look. But you did. You've been looking for years."

He was right. He was always right and it infuriated her. Why couldn't it be different. Why couldn't she be that naive little girl who played pretend newsgirl in her room everyday. As much as wished so, she wasn't that child anymore. She never would be. Now she was an operative on the cusp of adolescence. She was hardened. She saw things no normal kid sees. She had been there for it all. Seen some of her comrades sacrifice everything. _Everything_.

But for what? That was always a question playing on her mind. All these sacrifices and losses given to a cause that didn't know what it was fighting for. Nothing was ever cut clear, no one trusted her enough with a straight answer. Her cousin's friends, they still kept their mouths shut about him. Global Command shrugs her off, believing 'pretty face' was all that she was good for. But she was more than that. So much more than that. She had done the one thing all of them were afraid of.

She had become wise. Wise to it all. And she hated it.

"I'm still looking," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "But every time I think I've made sense…things disprove the theory…what's the point in it all?"

The Steve was silent, but a flicker of something shone in his eyes. "Ask it."

"_Why_?" she asked lowly. Her face rose, un-shed tears glistening in the moonlight. "Why did you do it? Why did you leave us? Why did you go against everything? You were the best of us all, no matter what anyone says! Not 362, not 274. Not any of them. Why did you leave us in the dark, _Numbuh 100_?"

The Steve said nothing, gave no reaction to his former codename. He only stood there, the ever contemplative gaze shining in his eyes. The laid back persona hid the never tiring mind of command under it all. The youth folded his arms as his gaze went skyward, staring intently at the moon cresting in the night sky. "I won't fight under a banner that can't back up its own message. That would be the ultimate betrayal."

"What?"

"Hypocrites, that's all they are when it comes down to it. You think it's over tomorrow? You think you'll wake up, cash out all cool like, and never have to think back on any of it again? Nothing's ever that simple, babe. If they want to keep you, they will."

Stacey let his words sink in before her mind came to one logical conclusion. She had heard rumors, but never got the opportunity to dig deeper. But, was it real after all? "You mean…the secret Teen Covert Ops?"

"You're so much smarter then they give ya credit for," The Steve nodded. "Our code, the one we put all our faith in, strictly states we all have to give up something. My operatives, my people were willing to give everything up once thirteen came rolling around. As Supreme Leader, I would do the same without a heartbeat. But apparently, I got _privilege_. I got to keep going, and not give up a damn thing. As a leader, I was too valuable for them to just let off easy. But what do my people get in return? They get screwed. What I got without asking, they only got if they were lucky."

Stacey was left in awe of his speech, amazed how the further he went on, the more passionate he became on the subject. The classy accent giving away to a long suppressed southerner's drawl.

"They preach freedom, but they control who's allowed the right. Same story, even with the Kids Next Door. The lower workers have to pay up everything for what The Man gets for free," he finished, his voice slightly clipped. "I would not accept that. I refuse to believe that's what our founders would have wanted. If I have to go to the extremes to remind them, then I guess I'm the bad guy. Change has gotta come, and sadly, it's gotta come in radical."

"But do the ends justify the means?" Stacey asked, yet her fire seemed to be dying. She was just so tired. "You think that makes everything better? I'm supposed to understand it, just like that? I…I just can't! Where's the rhyme or reason? Where's the sense behind the madness? What makes us resort to these sorts of actions? You were Numbuh 100. You were the stone hard wall we could all lean on. Yet even you…you're not beyond the vices…" Her weapon lowered, her body becoming zapped. "Not even you… Where's the truth? How am I supposed to find the answer?"

A hand on her shoulder caused her to look up, and there he was. His eyes, they were different. They were more guarded. But she was a reporter. She saw what was underneath the underneath. "You don't have to stop looking for it. You don't have to look alone, either."

"But you left us…left me," she muttered. The offer was there, and it was so very tempting at the moment. "I would have followed you anywhere, sir."

For the first time that night, The Steve smirked. "It's never too late to catch up."

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><p>The following day, the mood in sector L was thick, heavy, and somber. No one wanted to go through with their jobs. Nobody wanted to accept the grim news, but it was their duty to report it anyway.<p>

For the first time in years, Numbuh 11.0 sat alone at the anchor desk, no one daring to find a body to fill the seat to his right so soon. He made no jokes, no witty puns, or made light of any story that came across him. He simply went through the motions, as did the crew around him.

Then the time came for the final segment. The part where they presented a list of operatives no longer among them. Those who went to their decommissioning and faced their fate honorably. The list and silence was a sign of respect to the lost, a final farewell to friends who would soon come to forget them. To be on that list meant you followed through, and carried your pride until the very end, and fulfilled your final duty to the Kids Next Door with honor.

And despite it being her thirteenth birthday, Numbuh 10's name would not be deemed worthy of that list.

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><p><strong>Thought of this a while back. Wrote it up and decided to enter it in this contest, see what happens.<strong>

**On to other projects.  
><strong>


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